


Marital Arrangements

by Kay (sincere)



Series: A Backwards Courtship [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bratty!Thor, Cultural Differences, Falling In Love, Fantastic Racism, Jotun!Loki, M/M, Pregnancy, Relationship Negotiation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincere/pseuds/Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a thousand years, Thor has believed that he would be King of Asgard, and that he would rule side-by-side with the queen of his choosing. Now, that choice has been taken away. And his queen-to-be is certainly not one he would have chosen for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marital Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainfall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/gifts).



> A holiday gift for idk my bff [rainfall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rainfall/pseuds/rainfall)! Written for the prompt "first kiss" at [cottoncandy_bingo](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org).
> 
> This fic takes place in an AU where Loki is rescued as a baby by a frost giant, instead of by Odin. It contains coerced marriage, racism and ignorance directed at the Jotun, and discussion (although general cluelessness) about intersex Jotun.

To say that Thor was not looking forward to his impending marriage was to drastically understate it. He had been raised his whole life to be free and proud, to stand tall and know that all the universe was at his feet. He was to be the king of the most glorious of the Nine Realms, the overseer of the highest point on Yggdrasil's trunk. His queen would be even more beautiful than his mother, and she would be devoted, intelligent, and perhaps not quite so much of a firebrand as he had thought he wanted once. She should not be overly independent, should support and believe in him, and should not challenge him. After all, wisdom and power were his birthrights, and there had never been any doubt in his mind that he would be the greatest -- the _best_ \-- king that Asgard had ever known... though of course he would not have impugned his father's leadership.

Until, that was, almost a thousand years of rearing suddenly became meaningless: until, that was, Odin suddenly changed his mind, and where once Thor's future had been his own to determine, now it was set in stone, and he was to marry a frost giant.

_To marry. A frost giant._

Thor imagined himself standing side by side with his queen, a hulking blue warrior twice his height, and his grand visions of his reign evaporated. He could only imagine his people laughing at him. He could only imagine resenting the union. He found himself longing to wipe out the frost giants before the mockery began.

"There is no choice," Odin had told him, wearily. "Laufey is not wrong. A thousand years he has kept his terms of the truce, and we must allow him the chance to prove himself trustworthy again. Without the Casket of Ancient Winters, Jotunheim will be destroyed. They will give us a prince, and we will give them a treasure."

"They will make us look like fools before all the realm, twice over by putting themselves in our line of succession and then by convincing us to pay them to do it!" Thor seethed.

It had gone downhill from there.

In the end, Odin had been firm, and more than firm. All the shouting Thor could muster was met only with Odin's unyielding will, his steadily growing agitation. He gave Thor a final, definitive ultimatum that ended the whole discussion: his succession to the throne was dependent upon his marriage to the Jotun prince.

The full scale of it took a while to sink in, days after Thor knew that there was no escaping his fate. A lifetime living with an untrustworthy frost giant -- a solitary king, with a lonely bed. But without the frost giant he would be no king at all: his mother would be left with the realm's power, and Thor, like a child, would be kept behind her skirts, letting her govern his life and his affairs and a kingdom he had been too small and selfish to be trusted with.

So he would be married. But that grim certainty did not content Thor, and he informed his friends freely how he chafed at it.

"Now, Thor," Volstagg said, his voice of reason slightly tempered by the audible hesitation in it. "His Majesty made clear that unless a trade is made for their Casket, their whole race will be wiped out."

"So _I_ am to be traded?!" Thor demanded belligerently.

"No, no, no! Of course not! _They_ are trading _their_ prince, in exchange for the Casket-- You know, Thor, I've heard tell that he is not typical for a frost giant!" Volstagg said hastily.

"Yes, yes, he's apparently quite small," Fandral said, and laughed. Little would quash his spirits -- certainly not when he'd been drinking as much as he had. A royal coronation, a royal wedding, and Thor married to a frost giant seemed to have convinced him that he should spend the next few days as intoxicated as possible, though Thor could not have said whether it was in celebration or to get the mental image out of his head. For his own sake, it had better be the latter, because Thor was in no mood for celebration. "He may only be _nine_ feet tall!"

Nine feet was no less of a joke than twelve; especially when Thor was unaccustomed to being shorter than anyone, and often the tallest man in the room, even among the tall Asgardians. His scowl darkened.

"It is better than war," Hogun said soberly.

Privately, Thor disagreed. He would have happily waged war to eliminate their whole race himself before the melt could do it. But his most recent argument with his father, only earlier that morning, still stung fresh in his mind, and so instead of admitting as much, he countered, "Taking one into my bed? Our most ancient and fearsome enemies, whose very touch withers flesh? Are you so sure _that_ will not lead to war?"

It would be a childishly simple circumstance to abuse, he thought grimly. If he so much as attempted to embrace his new queen, let alone share a bed... They were things he most assuredly did not _want_ to do with one of the grizzled and cruel Jotun, but he was offended to find himself in a situation where he would have expected it -- and yet could not manage those basic elements of touch and connection with his partner.

"And to marry a man!" Thor hissed. He was rarely attracted to men, and the long, lanky frost giants were one and all male. Which led to another concern that Odin had failed to satisfy. "How will the line of succession pass from me?"

There was a long silence as his companions glanced among each other, unwilling to speak about something that they obviously had no more answer to than he did.

"You know that Volstagg will follow you anywhere, Thor," the big man pronounced. "But, ah, I think that if you can do something to save two races, you are rather obligated to do that thing. And if you need advice on the, ah, particulars of how this marriage will work, then... you had best ask one of the architects of it. ...Not me."

"Not me!" Fandral agreed, merry.

"Not me," Hogun finished.

His incredibly unhelpful friends were right, Thor conceded miserably. What he needed was to speak to someone who would know what was happening, and what he was going through. Someone whose empathy he could expect to be real -- and whose guilt he could witness in order to satisfy him, or else whose heartlessness would vindicate his own anger.

Which was how he came to his mother.

Frigga was resplendent in her grief, beautiful and composed and sad, her hair set perfectly and her gown settled around her, and when she rose to greet her only son, Thor thought, _I wanted a queen that would rival you, and now I will have a beast to wife._

"Are you party to this?" he asked raggedly, more harsh than he meant to be.

Frigga stepped forward, her features drawn, and reached up to cup his neck in her hands. "My dearest, please do not be upset over this."

"You say that like it is not something to be upset over!"

"Your father and I did not want this for you," she said, hushed. "I wanted my son to be free to marry for love. We both wanted that. Nothing was harder than the realization that we would have to force you to take a spouse you did not want, for the sake of the realms."

Thor wanted to calm himself in the face of her correct regret, but the wording flared through him. _Spouse_ , she said, because she could not say _wife_.

"Is this what is right for the realms?" he snapped. "That I suffer? That Father should sell my future to the highest bidder?!"

"It is because he is willing to make such sacrifices, even with the heaviest of hearts, that he is a good king," Frigga told him. He could see her unhappiness naked on her features. "In a week's time, you will be king. You must understand that."

"A king who beds down with a frost giant," he said, bitterly. "A king who -- who cannot even say if he will be able to have heirs!" He felt his chest tighten, imagining that life, with only a horrible spouse he could not trust even to touch keeping his company; childless and solitary.

Frigga shook her head quickly. "You will," she promised. "The Jotuns, they... they are all capable of bearing children."

A thought almost as distressing, as Thor briefly tried to imagine one of the immense blue warriors heavy with child, and then shook the thought away, angrily. As if he needed more reason to find this marriage upsetting.

"And then we will have a half-giant take the throne after me?!"

"It would not be the first time," she said, softly. "There is no better way to ensure that our people have _peace_ for a few millennia between--"

"Then you reward them for breaking our truces and attacking us! Or else why would the 'first time' not have settled the matter?!"

Frigga was silent, her hands folded in her lap, knuckles tight. In spite of himself Thor began to feel guilt for lashing out; perhaps he was hurting, and perhaps she deserved to see that he was hurting, but she did not deserve the full brunt of his anger. Not when she was so clearly broken-hearted on his behalf.

"I hope that in spite of all of this, you learn to find happiness with what will come to pass," she murmured, her voice low, trembling. "I hope that it goes well, and perhaps -- perhaps that he is even someone you can come to love."

" _Love?_ " he echoed, guilt fading into incredulity. "You want me to find _love_ with a frost giant?!"

"Anything is possible, Thor. With that attitude, how--!"

He sliced a hand through the air, cutting off her words, his lips pressed thin. He didn't need to hear any more. There was no doubt in him. "I could never love a _monster_ ," he said, cold and final.

Frigga was unmoved, the faded blue of her eyes impassive. "That was what I said, as well, when I was married."

Thor deflated slowly, his brows drawing together in confusion; why would she have said that? Of whom? His father? Impossible. But she spoke no more on the matter, and he quickly shrugged it off, returning to focus on his own troubles.

By that evening he had devised a plan to save himself from humiliation during the ceremony. He would meet his future queen only a day before they were wed, and the next evening they would be married in a lavish celebration, followed by an even more lavish coronation.

Only one public appearance to suffer through. Only one embarrassing ceremony, sealed with an even more embarrassing kiss, before he could do his level best to ignore his frost giant spouse, or -- if he was feeling generous -- at least live apart from him.

The ceremony required a kiss. He would kiss the giant's hand, thus negating any need for the giant to bend down to him... or for himself to look like a fool, kissing the massive blue man in front of the entirety of his people.

"It's genius, don't you think?" Thor said effusively.

Sif glanced at him sidelong, as if unsure he was serious about the question, and then turned to face him fully. She said, "Thor, even if he is a frost giant, and even if you do not wish to be married to him, this is not some play-date that was arranged by your parents. You are to be _married_ ," she said, her voice heavy with significance. "You cannot seek to undermine this, you cannot treat it like it will not influence the rest of your life."

"Oh, I know it will," he said, grimly. He was not looking forward to that life. An eternity of public appearances, side by side with a blue monster; an eternity of dinners seated beside a warrior with a face like a hatchet; an eternity of nights spent alone in his bed while his so-called wife spent _his_ nights across the palace.

"No, I mean--" She shook her head. And then she said, softly, "If you must do this, is it not better to do it... well? To be friends and allies, instead of strangers who barely speak?"

"Are you suggesting I be friends with a Jotun?" he demanded, offended.

Sif looked away again, her eyes faraway and the set of her mouth bitter. "I don't know," she confessed.

At the least, in the spirit of cooperation, Thor nobly decided that he could tell the other prince in advance about his intentions to only kiss him on the knuckles. They would have the one chance to speak with each other alone, so that they might get to know one another -- an unexpected gift, since they would be thrust together in the public eye a dozen times before their next chance to speak privately.

Sif was right. By telling his future spouse in advance, the giant would have no cause to be surprised or offended. Perhaps he would even appreciate the explanation. A good way to start off a partnership, even if an unwanted and disgusting one.

*

But on the day itself, nothing turned out as Thor had imagined.

Of course the Jotun would want to arrive in a display of their power: he assumed they would come with a large escort of warriors, probably in their finest gold armor, carrying artisan weapons instead of their usual rough-hewn metalwork. Maybe they would bring gifts. They must make _something_ in their empty, barren home realm, right? They could not survive if there were so little there.

What did frost giants do in their spare time? he wondered as he waited for them to travel from the Bifrost to the foot of the palace. What would his queen want to do when he was not attending dinners or appearing in public, as he was required to do? Did they hunt for sport? What animals did they have in frozen Jotunheim? Probably monsters, massive and dangerous. Thor was suddenly struck by the thought, _What if my new queen does not recognize even so basic a creature as a horse?_ and then he felt ill.

Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this?

And then the frost giants appeared down the street, and all went silent.

No applause greeted them, no musical fanfare. They were a frightening sight: massive blue giants, striding down the main thoroughfare of great Asgard with their bare skin, covered in bizarre scars, bared to the world. They were hairless, and without horns, despite the stories, and for all that they had allegedly come in peace, they certainly looked ready for combat -- they bore spears and swords, and their evil red eyes were fixed intently on their surroundings, evaluating and sweeping over the Asgardians around them.

It chilled Thor to the bone, somewhat literally -- the temperature dropping as they drew closer to the pedestal where the Asgardian court waited. In the middle of the crowd was their king, Laufey: not the tallest of them, or the most muscular; but his lean, stony face was recognizable, and his ceremonial gold armor covered his arms, legs and back, oddly leaving his chest and belly bare. A heavy rope of gold filigree draped his shoulders, and he wore several large jeweled bracelets on each wrist. He carried no weapons, yet there was a tension in him, unmistakable to any who had ever seen combat.

But when he spoke, his low voice rang out in the arena, smooth and even. "We of Jotunheim join you of Asgard, to bring our two realms together and face a future united. We offer up one of our own to serve as proof of our word and our intentions to abide by the terms of our agreement. He will become the symbol of our peace."

The Jotun who stepped forward from the crowd behind Laufey was small, though perfectly formed: his heritage was unmistakable, with his skin powder-blue and lined with mysterious markings, his eyes red like blood, and he was clad only in sandals and a heavy leather loincloth with thick straps that shrouded his hips snugly. In that way he was no different than the others, but in every other way...

He stood only half the height of the giants who surrounded him, and long, straight black hair crowned his head, curling at the edge and just brushing his shoulders. He wore a thick rope of gold strung around his neck, similar to Laufey's, and a gold ring with an inset ruby bigger than an eye adorned his left hand.

He was almost a person, and if Thor let himself look closer at what might have been a person, he was almost beautiful.

"My oldest son," said the Jotun king, glancing at the slight creature. "Loki, of Jotunheim."

No one so much as glanced at Thor, but he felt himself start to sweat anyway. Thor stole a look behind him, to see the Warriors Three and Sif, and what he saw reassured him only in that he could see they were just as astonished as he was, even Hogun staring with brows drawn together in bewilderment.

Loki was not what any of them imagined when they thought _frost giant_.

But it wasn't truly awkward until they were alone, until the Jotun had been brought to a sitting room while Thor awaited the banquet, and then silence fell as they studied each other and suddenly the worst thing that Thor could think of was that they would not have anything to say to one another.

Then, "Greetings, Thor Odinson," the little frost giant said, smoothly. His voice was low, vibrant. He spread his hands, a gesture of recognition that was ever so slightly alien, but Thor could see that his red eyes were on Thor, studying him -- measuring him. "I have been told that you will gain your crown tomorrow after we are wedded. Congratulations."

And he was eloquent; another thing that Thor had somehow not expected, although he knew better than to think that Jotun were all savage brutes that communicated in grunts. Thor cleared his throat and said, "Yes-- Thank you. Loki Laufeyjarson."

He said it with a tiny bit of pride, straightening himself up, reminding both of them that he _was_ informed and _was_ equally competent. He knew the proper patronymic for a frost giant was -- a matronymic, as little as he understood the details, beyond Frigga's vague assurances that his queen would be able to provide him an heir.

A small smile curved up Loki's lips. "Very nice," he admired. "Are you so educated, about our ways in Jotunheim?"

Perhaps the pride had been slightly premature. He could not fake more knowledge than he actually possessed, and most of that knowledge was little more than rumors, gossip, and whispered teasing of adults to wide-eyed children about how the frost giants would come for them if they didn't finish their vegetables. Looking at Loki now, he could hardly make a case for their well-known passion in the balanced diet of Aesir youth.

"Some," he said. Jotunheim was a barren world of ice, the frost giants were large and blue and aggressive... But he was conscious of his questions earlier, and his surprise. With Sif and his mother's voices in his mind, he admitted further, "Perhaps not as much as I'd like." There, that was a fair thing to say. "What of you, about Asgard?"

"Isn't everyone?" Loki inquired, with the oddest curl to his voice. Thor gave him a hard look, trying to decipher that tone, but Loki was already brushing past -- literally, turning to circle the room idly, observing the furniture and the hangings that decorated the wall. "But this little meeting is meant to help us learn about each other. So, please." He glanced back, offering Thor a smile. It looked strange on his face, white teeth splitting his thick blue skin, red eyes making it seem dangerous. "There must be questions you would like to ask me."

Thor cleared his throat, shifting and forcing himself not to stare warily as the Jotun circled the room. _Relax,_ he scolded himself. _Come from a place of strength. This is your -- your... queen._ It was the easiest word he could come up with. _Show him what you are capable of._

"Quite a number, actually. For instance, I myself have seen the touch of a frost giant wither Aesir flesh." Thor turned, casual, to face Loki again, gaze flickering over his substantial amount of exposed skin.

Loki glanced at Thor, and that red, intense stare was difficult to read: was he evaluating how gullible his future husband would be? deciding on a tactic while masking his true intentions? caught at his scheme before it even began?

But all the Jotun said was a soft, measured, "You think a marriage would be arranged with one you could not touch?"

"I could not be sure," Thor answered, warily.

Loki turned to face him, stepping closer. "The withering touch is something that my kind may summon at will. It is not on all the time, or by default." Another step, until he was so close that they were only a breath apart, close enough that Thor could almost feel his every movement. It was nerve-wracking, but Loki's eyes were steady. "And I swear that I will never use it on you," he ended, his voice a notch lower.

Most nerve-wracking of all, Thor decided, was the way that Loki defied his expectations so utterly. How could this exotic, intelligent creature be his Jotun queen? Why was he so intense, so... attentive?

"I appreciate that," Thor said. He sounded unfamiliar in his own ears.

Loki smiled, slightly. "Well, I have been _told_ that mutual agreement to do no harm is an important foundation of a marriage." He lifted a hand, palm up, as if offering him the opportunity to test that agreement.

Thor did not move. "Do your people -- not marry?"

"No," Loki said, unconcerned. "But have no worry. I have been informed of your expectations, and I will abide by them."

Words that immediately conjured up the idea of Loki in Fandral's personal space, with those lidded eyes and that husky voice and that promise of intimacy, oh so close, _and, perhaps, no concept of monogamy_. Thor started to scowl.

"What do you do, if not wed?" he demanded. "How foreign are these expectations you speak of?! I would have thought them self-evident in any relationship!" Asgard did not require servitude or arcane rituals in their marriages. What sort of animal would find an Asgardian marriage _strange_?

Loki lifted his eyebrows; perhaps he heard the agitation, and it gave him pause. "We take mates, as you do," he said. "A Jotun chooses who he will live with, and who will sire his children, if he wishes them. They are informal unions, dissolved if either party decides it is time. Not a marriage as you would call it, but not so dissimilar, is it?"

Thor pressed his lips together and said nothing. It was rather dissimilar, when Loki put it that way. Not only because a male Jotun would bear children like a female -- but because this union was not one of Loki's 'choosing'. If a frost giant considered himself entitled to just walk out of any relationship he grew bored of, what was to stop this frost giant from simply waiting a few months, declaring the marriage over, and returning to Jotunheim with the Casket?

He had struggled against a Jotun being his queen, although this creature was not the sort of Jotun he had envisioned. But while his pride stung to think that he was being forced to marry against his will, and still more to think of that marriage being a sham that would turn them into a laughingstock and rob them of a dangerous treasure... The worst insult of all would be for Thor's queen to endure being with him when he felt he should have the right to leave, but was trapped within because Asgardians did not take vows of marriage lightly.

Somehow, that was worse than his own suffering. He could make the sacrifice of his own happiness, as king, for the sake of Asgard. But he could not force another person to endure the same misery.

"Our marriage will be quite dissimilar, I think," he said stiffly, after a long beat. "You do not have that choice, do you? You... must have wanted something else."

Then the strangest thoughts began to cross his mind. Did this little giant prince have -- have friends or lovers that he had been forced to leave behind? If he did not recognize horses, would he find them pointless and uninteresting? Had he thrown the same tantrums that Thor had, railing at a disinterested father that he wanted to own his future once more? Was he as displeased about this marriage as Thor had been?

Could he be happy, in Asgard?

"It is..." Loki hesitated a beat, and his red eyes were directed elsewhere, thinking. "...not a fate I had imagined for myself." But he looked up at Thor, and he smiled again, the expression lingering, some thought behind those upturned blue lips that Thor could not name. "Short-sighted of me, perhaps. A different route to the same end is no less a success, is it?"

Thor frowned in consideration as he gazed at the smaller man. A different route to the same end... Perhaps. Certainly he would be king, given this course of action. And he _would_ be a good king. And his queen would not be a grizzled frost giant warrior, but a slender sorcerer who stood not even so tall as himself; he even began to see how it might be possible to avoid mockery and laughter... and to see that, perhaps, in time, that laughter would fade, and others would look at his queen and see that he was actually rather personable.

Perhaps.

"Our marriage need not be any different than what you would have from one of your women," Loki said, softer. He had long ago tired of waiting for Thor to take his hand, but now he reached out properly, taking the golden god's hand between his own, curving fingers that were oddly rough and strong over Thor's -- cool to the touch, but not unpleasant. "Asgardian, or Jotun... The pair functions as a single unit, making decisions together, seeking to do what would be best for them both. I will look out for your interests, and you mine. You will save my people from their fate, and I..." His voice lowered, suddenly husky. "...I will do my _utmost_ to see to it that you are _pleased_ to have done so."

The way he curled the word _pleased_ in his mouth, sensuous, as if savoring it, left little doubt as to his meaning. Thor felt heat creep up in his face, flushing him, very aware of where their skin touched, the trace of Loki's fingers over the back of his hand. If it was a ploy somehow, to catch him off-guard, it was wildly successful, and he was left imagining Loki in his bed, enthusiastically pursuing Thor's pleasure with his body.

Any thought that he might have had about merely kissing his bride's knuckles had evaporated, like mist in the morning.

*

On the day of their wedding, Thor in his grandest ceremonial armor and brilliant red cape met Loki in shimmering white fur and dyed leather loincloth, decked in gold and gems enough to make a dwarf jealous. They stood for the ceremony, their gazes locked together, each unyielding, daring each other to go forward into a future as one.

When it was time, Thor stepped close without hesitation and kissed Loki on the mouth, firm and heady and promising a partnership that he found himself, strangely, looking forward to.


End file.
